


blood moon

by deltachye



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x ritsu sakuma | vampire au]Do not go gentle into that good night.[dw]
Relationships: Sakuma Ritsu/Reader
Kudos: 28
Collections: Gift Fics





	blood moon

You rouse tiredly, barely able to peel your eyes open at the sound of the door opening and closing. It’s dark; the room is only illuminated by the moonlight that peeks through heavy velvet curtains, and you’re unable to make out the face of your guest. Slowly sitting up, you can tell that it’s somebody new by the way they linger far away, unable to approach. You brush your hair back and rest your hands in your lap.

“Good evening, milord.”

Spurred by the olive branch that you’ve extended, the person finally moves forwards into the rays of light scattered by your tall cathedral windows. Their movements are slow and deliberate, having an air of elegance with every muscle twitch. Your heart catches as the silver slips over their face, showing them to you for the first time.

“…good evening.”

He’s frighteningly handsome, eyes dyed blood moon red. His hair is woven from the night, and it frames an almost bashful expression. You haven’t seen him in the manor before, and if you had, there was no way you could’ve forgotten. Your pulse thrums in your ears. That is embarrassing enough—but you know that he knows when he flinches, looking at his feet.

“Are you here for…?” You never like to call the act what it is. But as the resident human, there isn’t much other use for you during these midnight appointments. You’re used and bade farewell, left to nurse your wounds all by your lonesome.

After all, you’re owned by vampires.

“Yes,” he mumbles. He must be shy about it. Perhaps he’s newly turned? The older ones have lived their lives millions of times over and have little regard for the reality of their situation, and even less for yours. You are the disposable pretty woman, despite their fondness and good treatment of you. The new ones, however, are always unsure. Guilty.

“Come here,” you beckon, patting the residual warmth beside you in your bed. “It’s okay.”

He obeys—imagine that; a vampire lord listening to the words of its human pet—and stiffly sits beside you. His skin is cool to the touch when you reach out to cradle his face. You’re used to this, you tell yourself, but for some reason _it_ surges through you. You’re sure he can smell it off of you by the way he remains perfectly still.

Fear.

“What’s your name?” you ask lowly. Sweetly. He swallows and you feel the movement of his Adam’s apple against your loose thumbs.

“…Ritsu.”

“I’m [Name].” You smile, hoping it’ll encourage him. You’re fully aware of the pain vampires endure in bloodlust—especially those newly turned, still able to remember humanity—and it makes your heart ache for them. If giving yourself placates them, then you will. You let go and reach down, undoing the first button of your night gown. He gasps when you do and cringes backwards.

“It’s okay!” you reassure him hastily. “You can… do what you like with me.”

“But…” His brow furrows with concern. It’s been a while since one of the lords of this manor has extended that courtesy to you. Sometimes you wake up to the fangs already in your neck, unbearable pain searing through your body. His kindness does something unspeakable to you and you nod, brushing long hair over your other shoulder. The air is cold on your skin, goosebumps rising on your arms apprehensively.

“Won’t I hurt you?” he asks, pained. His hands reach forwards for one of yours, black nails skimming over your palm. You’re surprised by the size of it and the desperate way his fingers cling to your warmth, as if he’s hoping it’ll seep over to him and return his humanity. But all you feel is cold, for vampires can never come back from sin. You can’t, either, for you’re a sinner yourself.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you lied pleasantly. “So go ahead, Lord Ritsu. I know you’re hungry.”

It’s evident in the tightness of his shoulders and the increased labour of his breaths. He’s been trying to hold himself back for your sake, but when he looks up at you now, you can see the fangs gleam at his lips. They’d been hidden before, but this close to prey, his body had adapted. He was ready for you, and you…?

You were more than ready for him.

“Ah—!"

The gasp that leaves you dissolves into a whimper. Your fingers clutch onto the fabric of his coat, scrambling for purchase. You grip onto his back so hard that it’s the thing that grounds you. Your head instinctively tries to pull away from the pain, but he cradles you, leaving you with nowhere to run.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps into you. It always hurts with the first bite, teeth sinking into your delicate body. You swallow and close your eyes to steady yourself, taking shallow breaths. You can feel his nose against your throat.

“Please,” you murmur. There’s a low rumble and you realize that it’s him, growling. Heat laps over the fresh puncture wounds in your neck and you shiver, his tongue teasing you in a way that you can’t even admit to yourself.

He places his lips on you and you feel him drinking. Somehow, it’s different than every time before. It’s powerful, even as your mind fogs with pain and the disgusting smell of iron—it’s _pleasure_. It bursts from within you and you lock your jaw, struggling to breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. Your eyelashes flutter open and you see that he’s looking down at you. His lips, reddened by your life force, look as if they’ve been stained by lipstick. A smear of yourself traces down his chin.

“Yes,” you shamelessly breathe in return.

It weaves through you, curling your toes and fingers. You can’t hold back, the same way he can’t, and you moan—the sound of it rings through the air like church bells tolling over hills. You’ve never felt this way before. It forces you to cling to him, your body frail against his. It doesn’t radiate in waves—it slams against you. It’s too much—it feels too good.

“Not… not too much,” you pant when you feel the last of your strength ebb, your fists trembling open and sliding down his back. You don’t want it to end, but if he goes any further, you don’t know if you can come back. “I can’t…”

He pulls back and swipes the back of his hand against his mouth. His eyes, pearlescent, gleam with a desire to end you. If you didn’t ask him to stop, he would surely kill you. But then it’s replaced with a gentleness, and he lays you back down into your bed. Your blankets are tucked up to your chin.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, for what seems like the umpteenth time this night. You can’t help a woozy smile.

“Was my blood that sweet?” You ask it as a joke, kind of, but then he cards his fingers through your hair, raising it to his lips for a chaste kiss. His eyes remain open all the while, allowing you to watch the wondrous adoration cross his face. He grins, and your eyes linger on his fangs.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
